


(I loved you when you opened) like a lily to the heat

by athens7, morecircumspect



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: 1930s, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Comeplay, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Play, Don't Judge Me, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Kinktober, Love Bites, M/M, Married Couple, Multiple Sex Positions, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Service Dom & Bratty Sub, Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Experimentation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27351031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athens7/pseuds/athens7, https://archiveofourown.org/users/morecircumspect/pseuds/morecircumspect
Summary: “Well, it’s… it’s embarrassing, isn’t it? An embarrassing thing to admit to, in terms of what one likes to do in bed.”Richard looks less than impressed. “Thomas, again, you’re talking to someone who’s got an artificial cock stuffed up his arse. I’m hardly in a position to judge.”Thomas and Richard have a perfectly happy sex life. But Richard has brought home something from his latest trip to London that he would very much like to try. Once he musters the nerve to ask Thomas, that is.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Comments: 11
Kudos: 78





	(I loved you when you opened) like a lily to the heat

**Author's Note:**

> Finally it's here - the buttplug fic no one asked for!
> 
> Disclaimer: yes, plugs did exist at the time. There are pictures. Google 'Dr. Young's Ideal Rectal Dilators' and be amazed. They were sold for 'medicinal purposes'.
> 
> (With thanks to smithens for bringing this phenomenon to our attention!)
> 
> Please don't judge us (eeek!) and enjoy!
> 
> \-- athens7 & callmewirkmood

“I don’t know, love,” Thomas says dubiously, as he passes the strange object from one hand into the other, testing its weight and shape in his palm. It is made of a smooth, fairly unyielding material, bulbous on one end, tapering off into a point. Under the thick part of the bulb sits a straight shaft-like part, ending in a sort of round knob, or handle. “Looks rather uncomfortable, if you ask me.”

“I’m told it’s not.” Richard is sitting close, watching. Gazing upon the thing in Thomas’s hand with a bright eye, colour in his cheeks. “Not if you use it properly.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning thoroughly lubricated.” Richard laughs. “Didn’t expect you to be obtuse about these things, Mr. Barrow.”

“Well, I’ve never seen one of these in my life,” Thomas retorts, bristling just a bit at being called obtuse. “How ’m I supposed to know -” Richard shuts him up with a kiss, which happens to be his favourite way of being silenced.

“I love you.”

They smirk at each other, and Richard sits back again to observe Thomas’s face, gauging.

“So what do you think?”

He is clearly keen, and Thomas is never one to begrudge Richard his little whims and experimentations, but this is of a different category.

“Well...” Thomas rubs the surface of the object with his thumb, considering. It does look roughly cock-shaped at least, he’ll give it that, but something in him still wavers. “Didn’t they have a smaller one?”

“They did. _We_ do.” Richard’s expression vacillates somewhere between sheepish and mischievous. “I just showed you the one, but it’s a set of four. All different sizes.”

 _“Four?”_ Thomas gapes, and Richard nods. “What’d we ever do with two, let alone _four_ -”

“Simultaneous use, for one.” Richard’s prompt, almost shy response makes Thomas blush, and he feels a tug in his belly at the idea, his mind helpfully providing an image of them sucking each other off, each with one of these plugged in. But _still -_

“What if it breaks?” he argues weakly. He is worrying like a woman and he knows it, but he isn’t about to take unnecessary risks with the one thing that makes his life worthwhile. There is only one Richard Ellis, damn it, and he’ll gladly wrap him in blankets and renounce all sex for life if it means keeping him safe from harm. “What if it breaks and part of it gets stuck in there? That’d be difficult to explain to the doctors, wouldn’t it?”

Now that’s a horrifying prospect if ever there was one. He makes something of a joke of it, for the sake of levity, but the thought alone is enough to send chills down his spine.

“It won’t break, Thomas. Look at it, it’s sturdy.” Smiling gently, unbothered by Thomas’s fretting, Richard reaches out to take the dilator from Thomas’s hand. “But if you really aren’t sold on the idea, I suppose I can return -”

“I didn’t say that,” Thomas interjects quickly, and his blush deepens. Richard has the good grace not to grin and tease him about it. “I - I just… damn, Richard, I wish you would start with one of the smaller ones.”

“I want this one.” Richard draws the blunt tip of the dilator slowly across Thomas’s bare thigh. “I’ve taken bigger. You know that.”

Thomas almost _moans._ He can plainly see what Richard is doing here and it’d be annoying to be played like that if it wasn’t so damn effective. This man knows him all too well. “Flattery’ll get you anywhere.”

Richard smiles coquettishly and guides the dilator further up Thomas’s inner thigh. Thomas tenses for a moment, misunderstanding his intent, but relaxes when Richard positions the bulbous part of the dilator against his balls and rubs it slowly across each, purposely. Thomas’s breathing picks up speed a little, and he watches as Richard guides the object along the shaft of his cock. It feels surprisingly warm on his skin, his cock not as soft now as it was a minute ago.

_Yeah, all right. Maybe this could work._

“So you really want to do this, huh,” he breathes, and Richard glances up at him through his lashes, coy and beguiling.

“Only if you want me to, Mr. Barrow.”

_Oh - so it’s like that._

Well, then.

“All right,” he concedes, as he pulls up a pillow and eases into a comfortable reclining position. Hoping to appear more confident than he truly feels, he allows a lazy smirk to settle on his face. “If you’re so sure you can take it, let’s see you take it. But not until you’re good and ready.” He folds an arm under his head. “You know where to find the vaseline, don’t you?”

Barely has he had the time to appreciate Richard’s face lighting up with a grin or Richard has scrambled out of bed to fetch the jar from the bathroom, which is where they used it last. Thomas lets himself dwell on that recent encounter for a few pleasant moments, feeling himself stir at the memory of being bent over the sink and taken the Greek way, Richard tugging his head back by his hair as he moved with snappy thrusts, eyes glued to Thomas’s face in the mirror.

Different day, different mood.

It is tempting for a moment to take himself in hand and encourage his cock to get harder, but he doesn’t. In his mind, a different plan is formulating.

Richard is back already, _with_ the jar. “Are you going to watch as I’m doing it?”

“Of course I am.”

Grinning, Richard clambers back into bed, scooting up to the headboard. “Why, don’t you trust me to do a good job?”

“Quite to the contrary, Mr. Ellis - I like seeing how attentive and thorough you can be when you open yourself up with your fingers.” He gets another kiss, which he indulges, but after a moment or two he taps on Richard’s shoulder to indicate it’s time to get started. “Turn around. When I say I want to watch, I mean I want to _watch_.”

In the beginning of their relationship, it’d felt strange to give Richard orders like this, but God, does Richard thrive on it when he does - and that’s made it easier to assume this role. More pleasurable, too. He isn’t always in the mood for it, but Richard seems able to sense instinctively when to initiate the dynamic and when it’s better not to. Today, he was faultless at it once again - even if Thomas was hesitant about the strange contraption earlier, he is now warming to the idea at a fairly rapid pace, as Richard will be able to establish with his own eyes.

With a moan, Richard obeys, turning around so he is facing the other direction, using an elbow to raise his torso off the bed slightly. He’s slicked two fingers of the other hand and inserted one halfway before Thomas can so much as blink, and he sets his hand upon Richard’s raised knee, steadying.

“Sorry.” Richard grins, breathless. “Too fast, I know.”

“Take your time, love.” Thomas strokes his fingers down along Richard’s arm, to his wrist. From his reclining position at the head of the bed, he can see everything Richard’s fingers are doing. “I know you’re eager, but - take your time.” He immediately knows he’s misstepped, as a look of uncertainty, almost shame, crosses Richard’s face, tension creeping into his features. In an attempt at repairs, he adds, “There’s a time and place for that, too, but just right now, I want you to give me a bit of a show to watch. You wouldn’t deny me that, would you, darling?” He withdraws his fingers from Richard’s wrist and caresses the inside of his knee. Richard’s thighs part a little further still and his head tips back a fraction, his breaths coming a tad faster. “Would you?” Thomas asks again, and Richard shakes his head. “No, I didn’t think you would. Now listen to me - I want you to get yourself ready, Dick. I want to see you take your fingers first, and when I think you’re ready, I’ll let you insert the dilator. And then, if I’m pleased with how you’ve done, I may let you suck my cock for a bit and then we’ll see what happens from there. How’s that sound?”

Richard’s pupils flare, making his eyes appear darker. Slowly he picks up the movements again, circling himself with the finger he’s pulled out when Thomas instructed him to go slow, slicking the area. The dilator is on the bed next to his hip, idle for now. It is not _that_ large, Thomas supposes upon some reflection, but it is still a foreign object, not a warm, living cock. Would it even feel good? He supposes Richard will be able to tell him soon enough.

“There you are, love,” he murmurs, still caressing Richard’s knee. His gaze fixed on Richard’s finger, moving over and across in lazy eights, pressing occasionally. “That’s how I want to see you prepare yourself.”

“Will you touch yourself?” Richard asks. His eyes, in turn, are focused on Thomas’s not-entirely-flaccid cock, and he lets out a quiet, breathy moan as he presses in, just the tip of his finger, and pulls out again. He flicks his eyes up to Thomas’s face as though looking for approval. Thomas nods, and Richard does it again, slowly slipping in and out with just the tip of his middle finger before working up to anything more.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Thomas replies. He is drawing lazy circles on the inside of Richard’s knee. “I think not.” Richard moans his disappointment. “I just want to watch you, my darling. Watch and enjoy you, that’s all I have in mind… for now.”

Richard whimpers and shifts on the bed, rolling his pelvis down on his finger rather than pushing it deeper, exactly as Thomas likes to see him doing, but only the once. Then he pulls out and takes more vaseline, spreading it liberally between his cheeks before pushing in again with a little more ease still, up to the second knuckle and past. Thomas can see the muscle in his lower arm and wrist tensing as he appears to be aiming towards the front. “Not yet,” he says, and Richard moans but obeys, slowly pressing deeper instead. Then his middle finger is fully in, and Thomas can see it is, can see the way the muscle stretches just a bit to accommodate it. His cock gives a slight twitch and grows harder. “Pull out,” he murmurs, and Richard does, withdrawing to the very tip of his nail and then staying poised there, waiting.

“May I use two?” he asks, and Thomas gives a curt, jerky nod.

“You may.”

Richard doesn't waste any time taking advantage of Thomas's permission: adding his fourth finger to the middle, he pushes in once more, pumping shallowly a few times before going deeper, taking more inside himself. Slowly he spreads his fingers and closes them, flexing his wrist, but Thomas shakes his head _not yet_ and Richard is good, keeping his fingers straight as he gradually takes them all the way. 

By now Richard's cheeks are red with effort and arousal, the flush spreading to his throat, neck: he glows with it and Thomas can't help it, he needs to touch, so he scoots closer to thread his fingers through Richard's hair, mussed against the pillow he’s put under his head. However he keeps his eyes fixed on Richard's slick fingers, pumping slowly in and out, stretching the rim, and on his prick, flushed dark and resting heavy against his stomach. 

“Jesus Christ, Dick, you're leaking already.” 

“Yeah, I - I can feel it.”

Thomas slowly slips his fingers through Richard’s hair, tracing the shape of the scalp. “You know that I love it, don't you? I love when you start making a mess like this.”

Richard grins, his glassy gaze focusing on Thomas’s face. “Yes.”

“I’m almost tempted to suck it,” Thomas says conversationally, gratified to hear the deep moan issuing from Richard’s chest. “But… I think I won’t. Not yet, at any rate.” To apologise for his cruelty, he trails his fingers down from Richard’s hair to his mouth, resting the pads against his lips. “Open up a bit,” he says, but Richard has already done so before he’s finished speaking, his tongue pressing up to meet his fingers as he sucks them inside. Again, that pull deep in his belly as Richard wraps his lips around them and strokes them with his tongue.

“Good, Dick. Make them wet.” He gives him a few moments and then pulls out, much to Richard’s dismay, but his whine of disappointment sticks in his throat when Thomas brings those fingers to his nipple next, rubbing around first, then across, and across again. Mouth slowly dropping open, he arches his back, looking suddenly like an erotic piece of art that no museum would have the nerve to display publicly. His hand is still and tense between his legs, two fingers all the way in. 

“Thomas, please,” he gasps, “please, can I -” 

“Can you take three, first?” Thomas feels particularly cruel for this, almost sadistic, and he resumes caressing Richard’s knee to reassure him he’ll get a different answer eventually. “I’d like to see you take three, dearest.” 

Richard doesn't reply immediately, only stares, and that half-second of hesitation pushes Thomas to take a gamble. 

“Unless you feel you can't manage to,” he adds, with the same tone he'd use to talk about the weather with a stranger on the street. “I won't hold it against you.”

Richard seems to be a bit... touchy about the whole experiment with the dilator, yes, but this for them has always been a very effective brand of teasing. And indeed Thomas's gamble pays off, because Richard grins, a sparkle in his eyes and the dimples in his cheeks showing, and says, “I can do anything for you, Mr. Barrow.”

_Well._

“Four, maybe,” he says, still conversational, and he settles back to watch Richard put his index in with the other two knuckle for knuckle, the pleasurable strain of it visible on his face, in the bite of his teeth to his lip. Thomas encourages him with his hands, wandering restlessly from his knee to his hip, to his corded forearm, touching the jut of the bone in his wrist. “Not five, surely.”

“I’d take five of yours,” Richard says, breathless, and blushes at Thomas’s look of surprise. He moans at the stretch of his rim around his fingers, meeting Thomas’s gaze with a hooded one of his own. Almost defiantly, he says, “Yes. I’d try five of yours.”

Thomas gapes, equal parts incredulous and intrigued. Stirred, too. Ambivalently stirred, but stirred nonetheless. His continuously swelling cock is incontrovertible evidence of that. “That seems… ambitious. And not without risk.”

“Why?”

“Well, I…” Thomas mentally grapples with the answer to that question. He can’t believe they are having this conversation right now. Or rather that they are having it at all. “Well, I got big hands, don’t I?”

Richard’s eyes crinkle at the corners, and Thomas realises that if he wants to dissuade Richard from endeavouring something so foolish, this is clearly not the way to go about it. “Well, we’re not doing that right now, at any rate. Concentrate on the task I gave you, please.”

Richard gives an impertinent grin. “I’ve achieved it, Mr. Barrow. Three fingers, look.” He wiggles around said fingers before slowly pulling out, well, almost out, spreading his fingers into a triangle as he does. Thomas’s mouth goes a bit dry. “Aren’t I doing well? Tell me.”

“Doing well at being a brat, is what you are,” Thomas mutters, even as he can’t stop staring. “I ought to chastise you for your cheek, Mr. Ellis.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Richard joins his fingers together and pushes in. He used plenty of vaseline, more than sufficient to be able to pump three fingers in and out smoothly and quite noisily. "Chastise me.”

“Behave, Mr. Ellis.” Thomas swallows and licks his lips. His fingers close around Richard’s wrist, not stopping or even guiding the movements, merely following the cadence. “Behave, or no dilator for you. Nor my cock, neither. I could order you to keep doing this, just this, for another hour. Keep you rock hard and on the verge without being able to come. How would you like that?”

Richard pouts, a reaction unbecoming a grown man, or it would be if he didn’t make it look so damn endearing. “You _wouldn't_.”

“Care to find out?” Thomas retorts, and starts to get up from the bed, half expecting Richard to call him out on his bluff - because bluff it is. He has no intention of leaving things off here, but Richard mouthing off during these moments of play is fairly new and he’s having to adjust to the different dynamic.

He loves it, if he’s being entirely honest. Keeps him on his toes.

But before he has to decide whether or not to follow through with his threats, Richard reaches out and stops him - with the minimal gesture of caressing his thigh, fingers curling against his skin almost coquettishly. “Don’t go, lover,” he says, in a sultry murmur that spells seduction more than submission, but Thomas will take it… for now. “Don’t go. I’ll be good.”

“Oh, you will, won’t you?” A nod, a curl of the lip. Thomas doesn’t for one second believe Richard is done giving attitude like this, as a matter of fact he hopes not. He’d be lying if he said Richard’s playful defiance and the challenge it represents didn’t add to his steadily building arousal.

But he can play the waiting game. Better yet, he usually wins at it.

“Very well, then,” he says, getting back into his former position, gesturing at Richard’s hand between his legs. “Let’s see how good you can be once you start touching yourself proper.” Richard stares at him, and Thomas can barely suppress a grin before putting on a sterner face. “Well, go on, then. You’ve been asking if you can, and now you can. With my permission.”

“T-thank you,” Richard stammers, and his hand starts moving again, changing its angle so he can curve his fingers to the front. Thomas never could pleasure himself fully that way - and now he doesn’t need to lament that anymore, except when Richard goes away on business - but Richard can and it’s one of Thomas’s favourite things in the world to watch him do it.

Today he isn't being very refined about it, Thomas can see it in the tension of his wrist, in the way his cock jumps against his stomach, painting it with stringy beads of thick white liquid. He's not even pumping in and out anymore, merely performing a deep massage with all three fingers almost all the way in, aiming straight for that spot inside him without the slightest deviation, and Thomas is tempted to rein him in, but he decides to let him have this unrestrained moment of indulgence, not entirely for unselfish reasons. Head tipped back and face contorted in pleasure, Richard presents such a thoroughly sinful, alluring picture like this that it’d be a shame to make him stop, a real shame. Thomas’s cock throbs, but much as he wants to, he doesn’t touch it. He wants the first touch to be that of Richard’s mouth and nothing else. For a moment he gets pleasantly distracted by the idea, wondering how well Richard would take Thomas’s cock in his mouth with his fingers doing that at the same time, but he quickly banishes those thoughts and focuses on just watching, as he’d bloody intended to do before getting all distracted.

After all, there is plenty to see and admire. He sits in awe, actually, of exactly how uninhibited Richard can be in these moments, when it’s just them, naked in their bed - how vulnerable and open he is letting himself be for Thomas’s eyes.

“You’re beautiful, Dick,” he can’t help saying (although choking it out is more like it). “Jesus Christ, you’re beautiful like this.”

“Touch me,” Richard gasps, and there goes Thomas’s resolution to be an observer only, because damn it, he can’t deny Richard such a request. He watches as Richard presses deeper and rolls up his hips, tension in his belly. His raised leg jerks, and it occurs to Thomas that it may be getting tired.

“Look at me.” He waits for Richard’s bleary gaze to settle on his. “How do you want me to touch you, Dick? Tell me.”

“I don’t care. Just - just touch me, Thomas. Please.”

Thomas sets his hand upon his trembling leg, steadying it. “You’re doing well, love,” he says, “I’m enjoying watching you very much. Do you need a break, a minute?”

“No… no, I can keep going.”

“We’ll stop,” Thomas decides, and he squeezes Richard’s knee. “Don’t want to wear you out too soon, do we? Not when we’re just getting started. Or have you forgotten this?” He picks up the dilator and strokes it gently along Richard’s thigh. “I’m looking forward to seeing you use it.”

Richard swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing so attractively it's almost unfair, then nods, the movement a bit jerky. "Yes… Yes, so ‘m I."

Something in Richard’s reaction feels disingenuous, and it gives Thomas pause. “Only if you still want to, obviously.” His concern increases when Richard doesn’t meet his gaze. “Richard? Do you still want to? Or are you having second thoughts?”

“No, no, of course I still want to.” Richard looks embarrassed. He’s pulled his fingers out, and seems a bit lost, almost vulnerable. “And I know it was my idea, but - I’ve never done this before either, you know?”

Thomas almost replies that it feels nice to be doing something Richard has no prior experience with, for once, but manages to hold his tongue at the very last second. He suspects that such a remark would only fuel Richard's insecurity right now.

“I know.” Thomas caresses his knee. “But I’m here, and I’ve got you. Just remember that you can stop at any time.”

Richard nods gratefully. Whatever came over him just now already seems to be passing, and Thomas slides into a different position, stroking his hip and leaning closer for a kiss. “I love you so much.” Richard sighs against his lips and shivers when Thomas slowly trails his fingers along the inside of his thigh. “Love watching you touch yourself. I’m hard just from watching you.”

He tries slipping the dilator into Richard’s hand, but Richard won’t take it. “I want you to warm it up for me,” he says, softly and earnestly. “So it’s got your warmth when I put it in.”

Thomas kisses him again. “I can do it if you prefer. Putting it in, that is.”

“We’ll do it together.” Richard puts his hand up flat against Thomas’s chest, curling his fingers through his hair. “Thank you. For giving it a try. I know it’s a bit… outlandish.”

“The idea’s grown on me considerably since you first suggested it.” Thomas smiles. “You’ve been preparing for this for quite a while, haven’t you?”

Uncertainty flashes in Richard’s eyes unexpectedly. “I - I have, yes, but I was afraid that…”

Thomas takes Richard’s hand and kisses it. Nods encouragingly. “What were you afraid of, darling? Go on.”

“That you wouldn’t like it.” Richard’s voice softens even more when he adds, “That you’d think me some kind of deviant for wanting to -”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” Thomas pulls away slightly to survey his face. “You’re not. And in any case, I like that you get me to try new things.”

A glint appears in Richard’s eye. “I bring out your adventurous side, Mr. Barrow.”

“Yeah, you make me feel young again. Knew it was a good idea to keep you around.”

While speaking he's taken the dilator more firmly in hand, so now he starts pumping it slowly with the other, caressing the bulbous head with his thumb at the end of every upstroke, exactly as if it were his own cock. He feels a bit ridiculous doing it, but judging from the enraptured expression on Richard's face, his little show is having its intended effect. It gives him the nudge of encouragement he needs to take it one step further - wetting his lips and taking the head between them, slipping it back and forth a few times before starting to suck it proper. He can see Richard’s mouth falling open on a silent moan, eyes fixed on the dilator, and he swirls his tongue around it trying to pretend it’s Richard’s cock instead, except it hasn’t got the best taste and he has to stop doing it before he makes himself sick, God forbid.

“What’s wrong?” Richard asks, concerned, when he sees Thomas’s face.

“It’s… it’s got appalling taste, that’s all,” Thomas says, and when Richard starts laughing, he has no choice but to join. “Sorry… Guess that experiment went awry.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Richard chuckles. “It was definitely working for me.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm. It was. Too bad it didn’t give you the same enjoyment.”

Thomas takes a scoop of vaseline and spreads it over the head of the dilator. The jelly is cold, so he uses his hand to rub it warm. “Is this the biggest one of the set?” he asks, and Richard blushes.

“Second biggest.” He stares at Thomas’s fingers, mesmerised. “Didn’t want to traumatise you by showing you the largest one first.”

“You really were worried about my reaction, huh,” Thomas murmurs, as he places the dilator against Richard’s balls, just as Richard did to him earlier, and rolls it slowly back and forth.

Richard licks his lips. “Just a bit, yeah. Silly, I know.” Thomas slips the dilator between his legs, slowly trailing down, and Richard pushes up his hips, coaxing, encouraging, until the dilator is right there at his hole. “Oh, _fuck,_ Thomas -”

Thomas uses the round part of the head to rub over and across a few times, testing. He feels little tension, and the vaseline should make things easier, still. Richard is breathing hard, his eyes staring at Thomas, who wishes for a second he could toss the dilator aside and push into that slick, welcoming hole himself, but he takes a few deep breaths until the thought passes. He lets the tip of the dilator catch in the ring of muscle. “Only if you’re ready,” he reiterates, and Richard nods, bringing his hand down to cover his fingers with his own.

The first push encounters slight resistance, and Thomas has to adjust the angle a notch to help the head find its way, but once the thickest part is in the rest slots into place easily, only the broader handle remaining outside.

“Oh, fuck,” Richard breathes, and Thomas tears his eyes away from the mesmerising sight to study his face.

“Is that all right, love?”

“Yeah… yeah, it’s all right, it’s - Jesus.” Richard lets out a short, shaky laugh. “‘All right’ is one word for it, I suppose.”

“How’s it feel, then?” Thomas prompts, curious. “Like a cock?”

“Yeah, yeah, like a cock… and yet, not entirely like a cock. I don’t know, it’s odd. Good kind of odd, although -”

“Although what? Too cold after all? I thought -”

“No, no, it’s nice and warm, thanks to you. But it - it doesn’t - throb.” He blushes and glints mischievously at the same time. “You know how much I like your throbbing cock inside me.”

“Well, I’m glad I haven’t been made entirely redundant,” Thomas jests drily, and Richard laughs and leans up to kiss him.

“There’s more than just your cock to love about you, Mr. -” He stops abruptly, words cut off by a gasp. _“Oh.”_

“What?” Thomas asks again, worry flaring anew. “What is it now?”

“It’s - when I move, I - I can feel it, right there.” Richard shifts his hips again, deliberately this time, and moans. The sound goes straight to Thomas’s gut, and he slips his hand between Richard’s legs, touching the handle protruding from Richard’s hole.

“I am starting to like this thing more and more,” he murmurs, low, and grasps the handle between thumb and forefinger.

“Fuck, me too,” Richard breathlessly agrees, and arches his back slightly when Thomas manipulates the handle, changing the angle of the dilator inside of him. “Oh, _God_ -”

“Shit,” Thomas mutters, as his cock jumps between his legs - and still untouched at that, he realises with some pride - and he withdraws his hand, scooting back to resume his former position against the headboard of the bed. “Come here,” he orders, more roughly than was his intention. “Come here and suck my cock, right now.”

“You mean… like this? While I have -”

“Yes. Can you do it?” 

“I - I think so, just let me…”

Richard rolls over to start positioning himself between Thomas’s legs, slowly and gingerly because he has _a bloody rod inside him_ that’s rubbing against his fucking prostate with every move he makes, and the thought only make Thomas harder, the heat in his stomach growing until he feels almost breathless with it. _Hurry hurry hurry._

“Go on, suck it,” he urges as Richard crouches closer on stomach and elbows, eyeing his cock with a flush on his cheeks. His impatience is very undignified and he knows it, but he has no fucks to give himself and he doubts he’s about to hear complaints from Richard. “You like that pretty mouth filled, don’t you? You like feeling well-used.” Richard moans, a wordless admission. “And it’s still in nice and deep?”

“Y-yes.” Richard lowers his head to Thomas’s thigh, and despite that urgent need burning inside of him, Thomas can’t resist stroking his hair for a few moments, gently caressing his nape and his shoulders. “Thomas. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Thomas readily returns the muffled words, and he softly scratches the back of Richard’s neck until he finally raises his head, eyes focusing on Thomas’s for a moment before they flutter closed, his lips parting.

“No hands,” Thomas tells him, stroking his thumb along Richard’s jaw. “I want to feel your mouth - just your mouth.”

Richard nods, gently rests his left hand against Thomas's right buttock, a couple inches above the scar still visible there; his right hand trails a languid path along the length of Thomas's thigh, before stopping against his hip. 

“Can I leave them like this?” he asks in a murmur, his tone so earnest, so polite, and Thomas's heart flutters in his ribcage like a captured bird trying to take flight. 

“Yes.”

The first touch of Richard's lips on his prick is like a jolt and yes, okay, maybe zero stimulation for him up until this point was a bit of a mistake because he's so worked up even that simple caress is almost enough to set him off, and he has to take several steadying breaths to rein himself back in. “Fuck,” he mutters, and “yes,” when Richard parts his lips just wide enough to fit them around the head of Thomas’s cock, humming as he teases the frenulum with the tip of his tongue. Thomas lays his head back but keeps watching, staring at Richard’s mouth on his prick, parting his thighs just a tad more, raising his knees just a fraction higher. He is restless and he doesn’t want to be, he wants to be still and enjoy this moment without that sense of urgency in his belly driving him forward. He resists the impetus to put his hand on Richard’s head, stroking his forearm instead, cupping the side of his neck with the other. Once that throat starts expanding and bulging with the size of his cock, he wants to feel it against his fingers.

He takes another deep breath. There he goes again, rushing ahead of himself instead of appreciating the moment. Richard’s mouth has a way of testing his resolve under normal circumstances, but their little experiment with the dilator has upped the ante considerably.

Richard flicks his eyes up to him as he tilts his head and starts bobbing slightly, using his lips to guide the foreskin up over the head and back again, swirling his tongue around the crown when it’s bare. When he sucks for the first time, Thomas hisses through his teeth. “Do that again,” he rasps, and Richard does, gazing earnestly up at Thomas as he hollows his cheeks and sucks calmly, patiently.

Well, at least one of them is. Even with that… _thing_ lodged against his prostate, Richard can lay there and suck his cock like he’s got all day. Somewhere along the line, he must have learned to practise patience.

“You’re a marvel, d’you know that?” he murmurs, and Richard blinks, caressing his hip with his fingers. “You’re making me want to try it myself one of these days.”

He almost regrets it as soon as he says it, not least because Richard pulls off with a wet pop of his lips. “Really? You would?”

The way he says it, you’d think Christmas had come early. Thomas quirks his mouth.

“You said something about… simultaneous use, if I remember correctly.”

Richard grins widely. “Look at you, Mr. Barrow, embracing new things. I’m astonished.”

“What can I say - you’ve made some compelling arguments for it, Mr.Ellis.” He takes one of Richard’s hands and lifts it to his mouth. “The thought that you’ve got one in you right now, giving you pleasure as you suck my cock - can you feel what it’s doing to me?” 

Richard whimpers a bit in response. “Yes,” he sighs, while mouthing that special spot where the balls meet the shaft. “Yes, fuck, you’re so hard, Thomas.”

He latches on with his lips and sucks, and Thomas almost wishes he’d be disobedient and play with his balls, but Richard is good this time and keeps his hands braced against Thomas’s hips as he places kisses all over Thomas’s thighs before returning to the base of his shaft and working his mouth and tongue diligently.

Thomas moans, “Ah, fuck, that’s good,” as he raises both arms and grasps the headboard behind him. Richard hums and he can feel the reverberations right there between his legs, traveling straight into his balls and up his straining shaft. It’s curved back against his stomach in a strong arch, heavy and swollen and red, and as he’s watching a bead of moisture forms at the slit. “You’ve got me leaking now, Dick, you’re so fucking good with your mouth, ah -”

Leaning up on his elbows, Richard kisses his way up Thomas’s shaft until he gets to the tip, catching the little white pearl on his tongue and seamlessly wrapping his lips around him once more. He pumps slowly with his head a few times, tongue spread flat against the underside, his eyes closed, face relaxed, almost serene. After a while of this, Thomas can feel him starting to take him deeper, moving up and down in long strokes that are mesmerising to watch. Every time his glistening cock reappears, he swears it’s gotten harder still than before, even though that’s physically impossible.

At some point - his head is getting hazier, so it’s hard to tell how long it’s been going on - he realises Richard has started to move, his hips shifting restlessly back and forth on the bed, tension in his thighs. A new flush is spreading down his throat and chest, and as Thomas is watching, his hips lift off the bed slightly and come back down. He is rubbing himself against the bed, Thomas realises, but not only that.

“Does that feel good, darling?” he murmurs. “Is it hitting you just right when you do that?” Richard moans and nods. “Perfect. Keep doing it then.”

Keeping his hands braced on the headboard for now, Thomas watches as Richard gradually moves lower on his cock, opening his throat to take more with every downstroke. Sometimes Thomas will have to tell him to go more slowly, to remind him to catch his breath, but not today. He has himself under control again, at least for now, the purpose clear in his mind, and the purpose is to last as long as possible so Richard gets the longest possible enjoyment out of this situation.

“There you are,” he murmurs when Richard buries his nose in his pubic hair, throat bulging. Still, he resists to touch. “Doing so well, love. Don’t tire yourself, though. I’m not done using that mouth.” Richard moans, deep and low, and Thomas’s cock throbs where it’s sheathed. Richard’s hips twitch up and then he is pulling off to gasp for air, a string of precome glinting briefly between them before he sinks down between Thomas’s legs once more.

Thomas can see how he is really getting into it now, smoothly sliding down towards that place deep inside him where nothing but sweat and skin and sound appear to exist, and he doesn’t want to take the risk of infringing with the wrong choice of words when he’s in that state. So he lets Richard lose himself for a bit, and it’s only when he can see the first signs that his husband is getting too physically tired to continue that he decides to intervene. 

“Pull off for a second,” he instructs, repeating the order when Richard doesn’t respond immediately. Glassy eyes meet his, and this time he permits himself a touch, stroking his thumb down the column of Richard’s throat and resting it at his pulse point at the base. “Do you think you can get down on your knees, on the floor?”

“I…” Richard swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing slowly. “I think so.”

“Good. Come here, first.” He helps Richard into a kneeling position and slides his hand between his legs to reassure himself the dilator hasn’t shifted. “Still all right?” he checks. “You can keep going?” Richard nods.

“Yes… yes, I want to.”

His cock is rock hard and leaking quite profusely. Thomas gives it a languid stroke and thumbs at the head, spreading the moisture across. “Can you last?” he inquires, almost conversationally. Richard gasps.

“Y-yes,” he stammers, pushing into Thomas’s hand weakly. “I can last.”

“Is that a promise?” Thomas indulges him with a few more strokes, slowly pumping the head. Richard moans and trembles, bracing himself on Thomas’s shoulders as he rocks back and forth on his knees.

“I can’t make that promise if you keep doing that, Thomas, ah -”

“I better stop then, huh.” He does stop, squeezing the head of Richard’s cock for good measure as he looks up into his face. Then he releases him. “Get down on the floor, love.”

Slowly, with the cautious, stiff movements of a much older man, Richard gets out of bed and straightens up - well, not entirely, but he does make a very brave attempt at it, putting a hand out to steady himself against the wall. His cock even jumps, seemingly unprompted, and Thomas imagines the dilator pressing more insistently inside him with his every movement.

“Jesus Christ,” Richard mutters, with an embarrassed, breathless laugh. “Look at me. This is ridiculous.”

Thomas grins. “Told you we should’ve started with a smaller one.” He’s sat up, scooting over to the edge of the bed and placing his feet on the floor. He grabs a pillow at the last moment for Richard to put under his knees and helps him get down. Then, once Richard is installed exactly like he wanted him to, he unexpectedly finds himself faltering. It’d feel wrong to proceed to this next part without at least asking permission, but _Christ_ -

Richard grins at him expectantly. “Well, now that I’m finally here - what can I do for you, Mr. Barrow?”

“I…” Thomas stumbles on the first word and feels absolutely ridiculous. Christ, they’ve done this before, haven’t they? Then why this sudden betrayal of his own tongue twisting itself into knots?

It’s because it’s usually Richard initiating this, he realises - try as he might, he can’t think of a previous occasion where it was him doing the asking.

“Whatever it is, you can ask me.” Richard has his hand on Thomas’s thigh and strokes the skin. A glint of mischief appears in his eye. “Surely it can’t be as outrageous as my bright idea, and even then I wouldn’t blink an eye.”

Thomas huffs, almost annoyed at this man's unfailing ability to always put him at ease, make his inhibitions appear so small and insignificant. _Almost._

Richard smiles, more sweetly than he has any right to. “Look, if it is what I think it is… my mouth is at your service.”

Thomas feels a rush of blood to his cheeks. “How did you know -”

“Because I could tell how hard you were trying _not_ to thrust in my mouth, earlier.” He smiles and kisses him. “Is it so hard for you to make that request, love?”

For a moment, Thomas is struck unpleasantly by the realisation that Richard’s got him figured out as usual, but then it occurs to him how silly that is. “Well, it’s… it’s embarrassing, isn’t it? An embarrassing thing to admit to, in terms of what one likes to do in bed.”

Richard looks less than impressed. “Thomas, again, you’re talking to someone who’s got an artificial cock stuffed up his arse. I’m hardly in a position to judge.”

Thomas stares at him for a moment or two, gobsmacked. Then, unexpected even to himself, he bursts out laughing. It feels like a release, a pressure valve opening, and after a beat, Richard joins in. 

“Bloody hell,” Thomas mutters, and laughs again, “we're both ridiculous, aren't we.” 

“Well, you know what they say.” Richard grins. “Birds of a feather, and all that.”

For a moment they do nothing but smile at each other, the mood undeniably changed compared to what it was a minute or two ago. With no small degree of regret and embarrassment, Thomas is forced to acknowledge all this talking has taken its toll on his… ardour. He's not gone completely soft, but he's lost some of his verve and he's having a bit of trouble finding it again. Richard _must_ have noticed. His ability to notice things about Thomas frankly borders on the supernatural, at times. But for all his professed inability to keep his mouth shut, he’s gotten remarkably good over the years at understanding when Thomas needs a word of encouragement, and when he needs to be nudged in other ways.

Sat on his knees between Thomas’s parted legs, he glances archly up at Thomas’s face before pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee, then doing the same on the opposite side. Using his hands to guide Thomas’s knees further apart, he then proceeds to slowly work his way up higher, taking turns on each side - kissing, brushing the thin skin of Thomas’s inner thighs with his lips. Slowly but surely the intensity of those kisses increases, Thomas leaning back on his elbows to watch him work, hissing softly through his teeth the first time Richard’s mouth latches on suck a mark into his skin. “Really, Dick?” he murmurs, and gets a grin in reply.

“Anything below the collar is free game, Mr. Barrow.”

To reinforce his statement, he moves across to the other side to imprint a mark there as well. It feels like he even sucks a little harder this time, Thomas thinks. He wants to make another scathing remark, but whatever he may choose to say would be severely weakened by the undeniable fact that his previously wavering cock is lengthening once again, flopping back against his stomach as Richard’s mouth moves back and forth, closer and closer to his groin.

“Fucking love your thighs,” Richard rumbles between two of those wet, sucking kisses. As if that fact could have escaped Thomas’s attention these past couple years. “Love kissing them, love having them around my cock.”

“Like you did yesterday.” Thomas gasps softly, getting harder still as the memory of that erotic bathroom encounter the day before floats back into his mind. Even with generous amounts of vaseline applied, he’d been pleasantly sore for hours afterwards, his skin sensitised and burning from the friction of Richard’s cock being thrust between them. Richard is kissing that skin now, tenderly.

“Exactly like that.”

“Yeah, that was - ah - that was something else.” Thomas throws his head back and gasps as Richard gently nips at his thigh and then proceeds to leisurely suck another mark into the skin, this one mere inches from the crux of his thighs and his balls. Fuck, but he could surrender to Richard’s mouth worshipping him like this for hours if need be. Once upon a time, he’d thought a voracious sexual appetite was the prerogative of the young and that those urges slowly went into hibernation after forty - how wrong he was! Granted, he is not _that_ long past forty, but somehow he doesn’t think that they’re about to become a dull, platonic old couple anytime soon, quite to the contrary - they have relations practically every day and miraculously, they are still getting better at it.

“Love having you in front of the mirror,” Richard goes on. As before, he speaks only when his mouth isn’t otherwise engaged, so it’s with starts and stops, pauses in between. “Love watching your face as you lose yourself, love watching my cock slipping between your thighs. Gets me so fucking hard.”

“You have a filthy mouth, Mr. Ellis.” Thomas grunts and rolls up his hips futilely, wanting Richard’s mouth closer, so it’ll feel even better. His legs are spread shamelessly wide, the roles entirely reversed - at least for now.

“And you love it.” Richard leans across to the other side and patiently kisses a trail up his inner thigh before picking a spot to leave yet another mark, this one closest of all to his genitals. He can feel his breath on him as he sucks, leaving a bruise that’ll surely stand out against the paleness of skin that never sees sunlight. He moans low.

“I do. Fuck.” He grunts when Richard laps at him, grinning up from between his legs. “Stop your fucking teasing already and give me that mouth so I can have my way with it.”

Richard groans and braces his hands atop Thomas’s thighs, and then Thomas feels him mouthing at the base of his cock, a brush of lips and then his cool tongue traveling up his length, stopping briefly to tease the frenulum. “Get a bloody move on, you bastard,” he grunts, and Richard grins against his flesh, parting his lips to suck the head inside. Leaning over Thomas’s belly, he angles away slightly so Thomas’s cock is upright and then rests like that, waiting.

“Yes,” Thomas hisses, as he plants his feet flat on the floor and tilts his pelvis so he slides in a little deeper, stopping a moment before pulling back. This is going to tire him out pretty quickly, he knows, but it’ll be so worth it. Leaning back on his elbows, watching Richard’s face closely for clues, he establishes a rhythm, rolling his hips up and down again as he pushes his cock a little deeper into Richard’s mouth every time. He is mesmerised by the sight as always, the ease with which Richard accommodates him, even if he does encounter resistance eventually, and when he does, he stops, and waits for Richard to catch his breath and adjust. But in the end he is fucking his mouth properly, albeit slowly, until even the last of the tension in Richard’s throat eases and disappears.

“Can I go faster,” he gasps, and Richard gives the tiniest of nods, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks when Thomas changes gears and pushes in with a little more force, feeling the head of his cock nudge the back of Richard’s throat. Richard moans and Thomas can feel it all around him, Richard’s lips stretched around his base. “Fucking love that,” he grits out, and lowers his hips down to the bed until those lips are just loosely wrapped around the tip of his crown. He is definitely all the way back to hard, and he’ll have to be careful not to take this too far. For now, though, he undulates his hips back up, allowing himself to lose control just a bit as he continues spearing Richard’s mouth with little caution. “Taking me so well, love… beautiful.”

It takes him a few moments to notice one of Richard’s hands is no longer braced on his thigh, and he leans up a little further to confirm his suspicion that, yes, Richard is stroking himself in time with Thomas’s thrusts. He holds still immediately and chastises breathily, “Hands where I can see them, Dick.”

It isn’t that he begrudges Richard the added pleasure, but he's also seen how well he responds to delayed gratification, and -

“I just want us to keep close pace, love,” he says, touching Richard’s head almost apologetically. Richard moans but complies with the order. “Can’t do that if you’re cheating.”

Richard raises his eyes up to him, imploring, and Thomas feels a jolt deep down in his belly, his hips stuttering back to life of their own accord. He knows he won’t be able to keep doing this for much longer, but he’s going to try and make it stretch as far as it damn well will go. He thrusts up, burying himself fully for a second and then pulling back, tilting his pelvis and surprising Richard with a slightly different angle on the next upstroke. He grabs the base of his cock to guide himself, his fingers bumping into Richard’s lips as he fucks in with a series of short, snappy thrusts. Richard moans and tilts his head back to establish eye contact once more, even if his eyes seem to have difficulty focusing.

Not very surprising, considering everything they've been up to in the past hour. (At least, he thinks it's been an hour. He tends to lose all sense of - and interest in - time when they get like this.)

 _Jesus Christ_ , he realises with a shudder deep in his core - Richard is doing all this with that _thing_ inside him still and he's been so good, so diligent about it. Thomas feels dizzy if he lingers on the thought for too long.

Regretful, he selfishly thrusts in a couple more times before pulling out altogether, leaving Richard looking dazed and confused about the sudden interruption, only a thin, sticky string leaving the connection between his mouth and the head of Thomas’s cock intact. Said cock twitches, suddenly deprived, standing firm and rigid between his thighs, and Thomas realises only now how close he’d gotten. He is toeing that edge even now, his balls tucked up tight and dark between his legs, and he wraps his hand around the tip of his cock as a precaution, squeezing until the urge retreats.

“Why’d you stop?” Richard whines, and once again, Thomas’s insides churn at the needy undercurrent of Richard’s words, the uncharacteristic rasp in his voice.

“Come here - kiss me,” he says, conspicuously hoarse himself, and he pulls Richard closer to claim his mouth, eager to taste himself on Richard’s tongue. “Get on the bed… I want your arse.”

Richard swallows. From where he sits, Thomas can see his pulse jumping frantically in his neck. “How shall I...?”

“On your stomach, if that’s all right.”

“Fuck,” Richard mutters, biting his lip. He moves to comply at once, but Thomas stops him for another kiss, more tender than the previous one. Richard groans and rubs himself against him, impatient, but surrenders to Thomas’s lips easily enough before getting settled on the bed as instructed, putting a pillow under his hips at the last moment. The dilator hasn’t shifted, Thomas is pleased to see, and he grabs it by the handle carefully as he straddles Richard’s thighs, rotating it slowly. The movement draws a long moan from Richard’s mouth.

“Do you even still want my cock?” Thomas asks, grinning. “Since you seem to have taken such a shine to this thing.”

Richard huffs. “Don’t ask stupid questions,” he says, muffled, and Thomas’s grin grows broader.

“Mind your attitude, Mr. Ellis,” he breathes. He brackets Richard’s hips with his hands, tracing the hip bones with his fingers. He caresses the cheeks and spreads them slowly, kneading gently. “Are you ready for me, or do you need my fingers to help you?”

“I - I’m not sure.”

“Let’s find out, then, shall we?” Thomas takes the handle of the dilator between his fingers again and slowly starts pulling it out. It resists for a moment, but he maneuvers it carefully and it gives, the shaft emerging, followed by the bulb slipping free as well. The rod is warm to the touch, the vaseline runny. Stifling a moan, Thomas runs it along the length of his cock. With the thumb of his other hand, he traces Richard’s rim, dips in slightly. “Yeah, I - I think you’re ready.”

“Fucking take me then,” Richard growls, “ _please_.”

Thomas doesn’t scold Richard for his impatience - he is hardly faring better, himself, especially when Richard reaches back, between his legs, and slips two fingers inside himself slightly, pumping in and out a few times. Thomas can’t tell if he is doing it to tease him or out of sheer curiosity - either way, the sight is affecting him quite a bit, as evidenced by the curse spilling out of his mouth.

“Like what you see, Mr. Barrow?” Richard asks breathlessly. Keeping his fingers partially buried, he spreads himself slowly, shifting his hips on the pillow. Staring, mesmerised, Thomas reaches for the vaseline blindly.

“I don't recall giving you permission to do that,” he says hypocritically, because the last thing he wants is for Richard to stop giving him this little show.

“I wouldn’t have to if you got a bloody move on,” Richard pertly replies. His fingers had stilled for a moment but start moving again, insistently enough that it draws a whine from his lips. “Fuck, Thomas, I just need to feel _full_.”

As he finishes slicking the head of his cock, Thomas has to take a moment to breathe and pinch himself again for good measure. “Jesus Christ, Dick, that filthy tongue of yours will give me a stroke sooner or later.”

“I’m s-”

“No.” Thomas covers Richard’s hand with his own, leaning down to kiss Richard’s nape and shoulder. “No, _I_ am sorry, darling. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

Slowly, he wraps his fingers more tightly around Richard’s hand and applies pressure, pushing his fingers deeper. Richard gasps and shudders. “There… is that better, love?” Using Richard’s hand as an extension of his own, he pulls back, then pushes in again. “How’s that feel?”

“Better,” Richard chokes out. “Not as good as your cock, though.”

“It doesn’t, huh?”

“Fuck, no. Not by a mile.” Richard moans into the bed when Thomas angles his fingers lower, aiming for that special spot. “Thomas, please - please, fuck me already, have I not been good?”

“Mostly good.” Thomas chuckles. He kisses Richard’s neck once more before sitting up, releasing Richard’s hand so he can pull out. This time he doesn’t delay lining himself up immediately, adjusting his angle before slowly pressing in with just the tip. The breach is easy, and he stops for a moment to breathe and collect himself, wondering why in God’s name he had tried to convince Richard to use a smaller dilator. What had he been _thinking?_

“How’s this, then?”

Richard's sigh seems to shake his entire body, his hips instinctively moving towards Thomas while the rest of him melts into the mattress. 

“'s lovely... You take such good care of me, Thomas.” 

“You make it very easy, Dick.”

With one hand on Richard’s waist, Thomas keeps going, pressing steadily deeper until his groin rests against Richard's buttocks like they were made to fit, as always. Richard gives a long moan, and for a moment they stay like that, breathing, adjusting, neither moving as they settle into this new position, reveling in how closely they are joined.

Finally, Thomas moves his fingers to pet Richard’s hip, and Richard lets out a breath, breaking the silence. “Oh, fuck.”

“That dilator is definitely worth keeping around, huh,” mutters Thomas. He can feel Richard’s body hugging him comfortably, and that with so little effort required on his part. Not that he doesn’t enjoy slowly fingering Richard open before buggering him, quite to the contrary, but this, well… it has its merits, too.

“I’ll say.”A low hum issues from Richard’s throat when Thomas’s hand slips away from his hip, reaching instead between his cheeks, touching him gently. Touching the both of them, really. He shudders and Thomas feels it around his cock. “God, I’m so fucking ready for you to fuck me. _Please…_ ”

“Love how sweetly you beg for me,” Thomas grins and pinches Richard’s buttock as he rolls his hips back slightly and then forward again, just an experimental little thrust that is nonetheless met with approval. This time when he bottoms out, he doesn’t rest but pulls back again immediately, watching himself emerge inch by inch until he’s more than halfway out. He pauses a second to let Richard catch his breath before tilting his hips downward again, faster this time, harder. He basks in the act and the feeling it gives him, the gratifying moan Richard gives in response. _Yes._

He does try to steady himself, to build his pace slowly and patiently, but Richard’s moans are so intoxicating, the heat of his body gripping Thomas’s cock so addictive that he can’t help being swept up in the base pleasure of it, in the increasingly frenzied roll and snap of his hips and the way Richard responds - the way his body seems made to accept him inside, he thinks in a moment of dazed ecstasy, and immediately scolds himself for his sentimentality.

But the thought has weaved its tendrils around his mind, and Thomas feels intoxicated by it. The sense of longing, of _belonging_ , sweeps over him and it's so powerful that he needs to release some of it somehow, his thrusts growing more regular but also gaining intensity. He wants to drown in the slick sounds of their coupling, his own heavy breathing and cries, Richard's muffled curses and murmurs of encouragement, the slap of skin against skin -

“Oh, Christ,” Richard gasps out when Thomas changes the angle slightly, and Thomas can feel him trying to rub himself against the pillow with little success. Thomas thrusts in again, and again, in measured strokes, avoiding the prostate on some strokes and making sure to hit it on others. He doesn’t want Richard to come apart too soon, even if he can feel the heat in his own belly coiling tighter already, sooner than he’d like. No wonder, probably, after all that buildup and generous use of Richard’s mouth that’s preceded this moment.

He delivers a series of insistent thrusts that bring him to the very edge of what he can endure and then pulls out abruptly to grasp the head of his cock and pinch it, grinning breathlessly at the moan of frustration Richard gives at being denied like this. “Thomas,” he chokes out, “why the fuck -”

“I want you on your knees,” Thomas cuts in, with an appreciative squeeze of Richard’s arse. He is still pinching himself, his balls screaming for release, but he has found that pleasurable line to balance on and he is clinging to it, high on the rush. “Can you do that?”

“I - God, I hope so. I’ll try.”

Richard gets up on his elbows and Thomas scoots back, getting between Richard’s legs instead of straddling them, and hums approvingly as Richard manages to pull his knees under him. He lines up before Richard has well and truly settled, teasing his opening with the tip of his cock. “That’s better, isn’t it? Not quite so… stationary.” Setting his hand flat on the top of Richard’s buttock, he guides him back slowly, encouraging him to impale himself. Richard, hanging low on his elbows, moans into his arms. He slips the fingers of one hand into his own hair and pulls - he does that sometimes, when they get like this, and usually it means he wants Thomas to take over, but Thomas’s hands are otherwise engaged, grasping loosely at Richard’s hips as he slots back into his rightful place, encased up to his very bollocks.

“Beautiful, Dick,” he murmurs, staring a moment before letting his eyes travel down the length of Richard’s back. “Love to see you like this.” He drags his fingers along Richard’s flanks, then down the sides of his thighs, before taking them away altogether. “Move, love.”

He can feel Richard hesitating. “Move?” he croaks.

“Yes.” Thomas taps his hip briefly. “My cock is at your service, darling. Let me see you use it.”

Watching Richard fuck himself on his cock, even with stuttering hips - perhaps _especially_ with stuttering hips - is probably one of Thomas’s favourite sights in the whole world, and he drinks it in, eventually giving in and placing his hands back on Richard’s hips, exerting no force whatsoever, just following the movements as they grow increasingly more frenzied, Richard lifting up his head as he rocks back on elbows and knees, moaning out his pleasure without restraint.

“‘s Good, Dick,” he murmurs, lifting his left hand to caress his spine and watching it curve to meet his touch like a cat’s. He casually trails his fingers across the slippery skin of Richard’s back and tilts his pelvis slightly, eliciting a soft cry. “If it’s getting to be too much, be a good lad and tell me. I wouldn’t be pleased if you finished yourself off like this, that’s my prerogative.”

“Best take over then,” Richard grits out between clenched teeth, and Thomas grins and complies after a few moments, grasping Richard’s hips anew and pulling him back, down on his cock. “God, you take me so well,” he moans., and feels the last vestiges of his restraint slipping as he starts using his hips in counterpoint to his hands.

“You make it so easy,” Richard says, and from the sound of his voice Thomas can tell he’s got one of those breathless crooked grins on his face that always seem to go hand in hand with Richard deciding he wants him to lose control. “I love taking you.”

_The little shit. Playing him like a goddamn virtuoso would a fiddle._

And it works - of course it works. A little too well perhaps, because the resulting wave of pride and satisfaction and pleasure crashing over him is so great that Thomas can barely resist starting to thrust fast and hard again, eager to let go and prove just how _well_ he can give, give to Richard. 

“Dick, ah, I need it harder... But I don't know if it’ll be too much -”

“Try me,” Richard retorts, two little words that shatter what little yet remained of Thomas’s self-control, and he starts thrusting hard and deep, an unforgiving pace, just an inch off of rough. He revels in the heat of Richard’s body, the appreciative moans being ripped from his throat by the force of their coupling, and he can feel the pressure in his own belly building, knowing that this time, he won’t be able to do anything to stop it. “When?” he grits out as he thrusts, and thrusts again, his aim perfect, “tell me when, Dick.”

It takes Richard a second to reply, and when he does his voice sounds so raspy that Thomas instinctively swallows in sympathy as if that will help moisten what must be a bone dry tongue. “I, I can’t hold off for much longer, Thomas -”

“Yeah, I suspected as much.” On an impulse, Thomas leans down. Wrapping one arm around Richard’s chest, he hauls him into a semi upright position as he drops back on his haunches himself, making Richard kneel astride his thighs. Gravity works in their favour like this, pulling Richard down into his lap, and he rocks up and in, to the front, where it counts. He keeps the one arm firmly locked around Richard’s chest as he bites and sucks at his shoulder, bruising the skin with his teeth. He won’t be able to comfortably hold this position for very long, but thankfully he won’t have to.

“Now, darling,” he urges, as he moves to a new patch of skin and sinks his teeth into it briefly. With his free hand, he reaches between Richard’s legs, under his rearing cock, and takes his balls into his palm. “Fucking come for me _now_.”

Promptly, almost as if he’d been waiting for the command, Richard shudders - Thomas can feel it starting within him, around his cock, between his legs. Richard’s cock twitches and releases a first thick spurt across the bed, then a beat and another, almost as if Thomas’s gently kneading hand were forcing it out of him. Panting, Richard lets out a harsh moan that he draws out as he erupts over and over, his clenching walls pulling Thomas over the edge as well, and he keeps still as he finally lets go, the only movement that of his cock pumping seed inside him and his continuously working hand. He moves his finger to rub at the perineum, pressing slightly, prompting yet another spurt from Richard’s cock. He can feel it happening with his finger, can put the tip right where his body stops and Richard’s begins, and he marvels at how far in he is, how snugly Richard’s rear is nestled into his lap. They could not be more closely joined than this, every convulsion of Richard’s body intensifying and prolonging his own orgasm, until they are both fully spent.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing a path along Richard’s freshly bruised shoulder, as Richard starts to slump in his lap, and he tightens his arms around him, keeping him propped up. “You are so beautiful when you give yourself to me like that, love.”

“I made a mess,” Richard says weakly, and Thomas chuckles, wiping at Richard’s thigh and sticking his finger in his mouth for a taste.

“A beautiful mess. I’d lick it all off you if I could. Take your cock in my mouth...” He can feel Richard shivering slightly, and takes his softening prick in hand, taking extra care as he strokes a few times.

“You’re so good to me,” Richard sighs, and Thomas kisses his shoulder. 

“Nothing you don't deserve a thousand times over, Dick.” 

Richard attempts a scoff, but Thomas isn’t having it. 

“Shush. It’s your compensation for putting up with a bastard like me.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Richard admonishes, and Thomas chuckles.

“Touché.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, neither having the strength to break the embrace just yet, but eventually Thomas’s legs start screaming for some proper circulation, to the point where he can’t put off moving any longer. Richard whines in protest when he senses what Thomas is doing, and Thomas kisses his neck.

“We’ll only lie down, Dick. Get ourselves a little more comfortable.”

“But I want to keep you inside me a little longer,” Richard whimpers, and Thomas grins against his neck, amused by Richard’s petulance.

“Well, that can be arranged.”

Slowly, arranging his and Richard’s limbs with great care, he manages to ease them both into a sideways position and even to avoid the wet spot on the bed as they settle down front to back, Richard’s arse pressed to Thomas’s groin.

“I can’t believe you’re still hard,” Richard murmurs as Thomas nuzzles the side of his neck. He can’t quite believe it himself, but he isn’t about to question it, just to enjoy it while he can. “Bloody hell, I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

Thomas grins. “So long as you feel everything else. My hard cock filling you even now, that soreness between your legs that you like. The sting of my teeth in your shoulder from when I got carried away because your arse was milking me for every drop.”

This sort of dirty talk is usually Richard’s domain, but it seems a bout of excellent, wild sex is enough to lower even _his_ inhibitions. Who would have thought Thomas Barrow had it in him to utter such filth without blushing.

“Yes, you were very enthusiastic. My shoulder is smarting from it.” Richard chuckles as Thomas brushes his lips gently to his shoulder, apologetic. “You’re a beast, Mr. Barrow.”

“And you love it,” Thomas says, unconcerned, caressing Richard’s hip with the tips of his fingers.

Richard sighs. “Wouldn’t have you any other way, frankly.”

Thomas props his head up on his right hand, fingers of the left still tracing patterns on Richard’s hip. “You sure it wasn't too much? Things took a bit of a turn, there.”

Because he can’t quite shed that little niggle of worry at the back of his mind. He doesn’t think he’s been _too_ rough, but it’s easy to unintentionally cross the line when in the throes.

Richard hums, his voice low and sleepy. “Thomas, I promise I will give you a most enthusiastic review as soon as my brain starts working again.” 

Reassured, Thomas chuckles at that. “All right, that’s fair enough.” 

Without looking, Richard reaches for Thomas’s left hand - the damaged one that’s never going to be any prettier, but somehow that seems to matter less and less as time goes by - and guides it to his chest, cradling it against his heart. “Thank you for trying this new thing with me,” he mumbles. “You’re more open-minded than you give yourself credit for, Mr. Barrow.”

“I can be,” Thomas acknowledges, “with the right incentive.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Thomas lifts an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re already concocting your next plot.”

“Brain still not working but yeah, I think I'll come up with something.”

“Well, you said you bought a set of four, if I remember correctly.”

Richard takes a brief pause before replying. “I did…”

“Perhaps I’d like to see you try the bigger one sometime,” Thomas suggests semi-casually, and leans in to kiss Richard’s neck. “If you’re up for it. Where even did you make such a purchase, anyway? I hope it was discreet.”

“As discreet as it gets in Soho.” Richard lets out a little self-conscious laugh. “I got them off a bloke who runs this little shop selling, er, _intimate_ items.”

“When?”

Another pause. “... Early June.”

“Early June,” Thomas slowly repeats. “You mean you got them while you were in London for business, when you were out of town for your bloody _birthday_ and I spent the day moping around the house resenting you for being away? And you’ve had them all this time working up the courage to tell me about them?”

“Er, yeah.”

“Silly, silly man.” Thomas kisses his shoulder. “What were you afraid of?”

“I can’t remember now,” Richard whispers, and turns his head, mouth asking for a kiss Thomas can’t deny him. But it’s an awkward position and sadly, Thomas is definitely getting soft at this point; Richard groans his disappointment as the head of Thomas’s cock slips free. 

“Next time, bring the whole set,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly to brush the shell of Richard’s ear with his lips. His mind is helpfully suggesting uses for the smaller dilators in the aftermath. “It’s a pity to see everything spill out after all my efforts to fill you so nicely, but my cock isn’t up to the task anymore.”

“Yeah… yeah, fuck, I will bring it, gladly,” Richard croaks, and pushes back slightly when Thomas circles him slowly with two fingers and enters him with just the tips, encountering wetness. He doesn’t go deep, knowing even a little can be too much right now, but he pumps slowly a few times, feeling his come coat his fingers. Richard’s body has kept it warm, and the thought almost gets him hard again.

Richard, too, seems to be affected. 

“Hmmm, give me your hand, Thomas," he groans, arching his throat. “No, no, 's no need for that,” he quickly adds, when he feels Thomas starting to wipe his hand on the sheet. 

_Of course. Should’ve expected it._

Considering how intense the whole thing has turned out to be, it’s no wonder Richard is feeling the need for this, too. And well, Thomas can’t say he doesn’t understand the impulse. 

He lifts his hand and Richard helps him cross the final inches, grasping his hand and guiding it to his mouth. Staring up into Thomas’s eyes, he parts his lips and licks at him slowly, not an inch of skin left uncovered by his earnest tongue. “I miss you inside of me,” he murmurs, as he takes the two fingers into his mouth and sucks intently, a soft moan at the back of his throat.

“Jesus, Dick.” Thomas knows it’s futile, his cock isn’t going to get hard again anytime soon, but fuck if he can’t stop staring at Richard’s lips, the bobbing of his throat as he sucks and swallows so diligently. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of watching you do that.”

Richard blinks and moans when Thomas presses down on his tongue slightly, taking him deeper still to make sure he’s gotten every last trace of the taste he was after. Then he releases him and presses a kiss to Thomas’s scarred palm. “Thank you,” he says, looking sleepy and utterly contented.

“C’mere,” Thomas murmurs and kisses him, feeling Richard’s fingers tangle into the hair at the back of his head - pulling him close, pulling him in. He tastes himself on Richard’s tongue and revels in it, wrapping their legs together as they spend a few minutes leisurely kissing, skin to skin, which in Thomas’s mind is the best way to be in moments like these, or in general really. With Richard, there is never any embarrassment about the imperfections in his body, the flubbiness he sees in his tummy, the silver slowly creeping into the hair covering his chest. The hand - he only wears the glove in public now. In the privacy of their own home, he sees no need to bother with it.

“I’m sorry for being away on my birthday,” Richard says when they’ve settled down, tired from kissing and everything else. “Couldn’t be avoided, but… I didn’t like it. Not one bit.”

“I know, love.” Thomas has his eyes closed, knowing that at some point they’ll have to get up, change the sheets and get a bath ready, but as of right now, he doesn’t want to think about moving. “Couldn’t be helped, just like you said.”

“Well,” Richard says, “I hope this weekend makes up for it at least somewhat.”

Thomas hums an affirmative. It’s not exactly a weekend of leisure - since it seems there is always work to do in and around the house - but that’s all right. No matter how busy, they always manage to find the time to lounge in bed for hours or idle on the sofa in shirtsleeves, bare feet stretched towards the fire.

“Hope your legs will have recovered by tomorrow morning,” he can’t help teasing Richard. “I know you'd hate to miss that bloody fair.”

“And _I_ happen to know you are dying to taste Mrs. Todd's special honey cake again,” Richard retorts, not missing a beat. “It's all you've been thinking about since last year, confess.”

“All right, and what if it is?” reacts Thomas, but he is too relaxed and too happy to feign offense, so his tart response won’t make the slightest impression. “I’ll get that recipe off her someday, so we can make it year-round.”

“What do you mean, ‘we’?” Richard chortles, and Thomas, who can appreciate the self-deprecation in that remark, joins in. “You know, if you’d just ask my Mum, I’m sure she could give you at least half a dozen recipes for honey cake good enough to rival Mrs. Todd’s.”

“You are missing the point, Dick. I can't _always_ ask your Mum. I'd like to have some cooking secrets of my own.”

“Even if you have to charm them off of poor, unsuspecting Mrs. Todd to achieve it?”

“You may laugh,” Thomas says as Richard does just that. “Just know that when I finally do get my hands on that recipe, I’ll be surprising your Mum with it the next time she comes to tea on Sunday.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you'll succeed,” Richard says while barely suppressing one last chuckle. “I have complete faith in you.”

“Hmmm,” is all Thomas can manage in response. Words like that, even when said half in jest, always make him feel a special frisson of happiness in his chest, and it prompts him to roll over and plant a kiss on Richard.

“Careful... I'm all sticky,” Richard warns, but neither of them even remotely begins to get up and do something about it. Still, the lure of a warm bath is getting stronger. They finally installed a larger tub last year so they’ll even fit together.

“Let's stay like this. Just for a while longer,” Thomas murmurs, as he rests his head on Richard’s chest, feeling the reassuring, steady thrum of his heartbeat against his ear. “I don’t mind you sticky.”

Richard chuckles, and Thomas feels him wrap his arms around him. “It’s funny,” he says. “Somehow I had this feeling you mightn’t.”


End file.
